


As Good as Gold

by loststardust



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Swearing, parental abuse? kinda, tommy gettin pissy ayyyy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9623042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loststardust/pseuds/loststardust
Summary: Your relationship with your mother had never been easy. But it had never been this hard either.The way Tommy sees it, if she can't respect your relationship, she doesn't deserve an ounce of respect from him. And he isn't afraid to let her know it.





	

The car had been still for some time now. It was parked by the front door of your mother’s house, and Tommy was growing restless. He’d been insisting for months that he should at least meet her, that he should be given the chance to win her over. And eventually, you’d caved, and arranged a time and date. But now you were here? The mere idea of it seemed idiotic. Your mother hated Tommy, in fact, you were positive she’d made the decision to ignore his existence completely. You were single in her eyes. Reminding her that you are very much in love with Thomas Shelby, and the lifestyle that went hand-in-hand, was never going to end well. 

Tommy sighed, both hands sliding from the steering wheel to rest against his thighs. “Are we going to sit here all day?” He looked ahead blankly, watching as a man crossed the road, before ducking through the entrance of his home. 

You pulled your gaze from the door, still chewing your lip as you faced him. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“That’s the fifth time today you’ve said that.” His eyes shifted to yours and you saw a tint of sympathy in their hue. “We’re doing this today, (y/n).”

“You don’t know her, Tommy.” Your nerves bit at your throat, pinching your words. “Can’t we just—

Tommy was moving before you finished your plea, stepping down from the vehicle and shutting the door behind him. You watched as he walked around to your side of the car, noting the quality of the suit he’d worn for the occasion. It was perfectly fitted, as always, and in a rich navy colour which heightened the paleness of his skin.

The door beside you was pulled open. 

“Come on, down you get.” He offered a hand to you, which you took after a moments deliberation. 

“It won’t be as bad as you think.” He continued, watching as you stepped down to the pavement. 

You couldn’t look at him. After nearly a year of dating, you were finally going to introduce him to your mother. Your patronising, judgemental, obnoxious Mother. The thought alone made your palms sweat.

“(Y/n)?” Tommy’s hand lingered on your wrist as he addressed you. He raised his other to lift your chin, forcing you to face him. “It’ll be alright, I promise.”

“You’re right,” you lied, pulling back from him to straighten the lapels of his suit. “But please don’t do anything to antagonise her. She’s already wary of you.”

He snorted a laugh. “I’ll be as good as gold.” 

You almost believed him.

Tommy turned on his heels and made for the door, confidence visible in each step. He knocked twice and glanced back to you. 

You took a breath.

The door swung open, revealing your mother. She was wearing her Sunday best, which was probably an attempt to appear better than Tommy, rather than to impress him. If you weren’t so nervous, you’d smirk at the knowledge that he’d out-dressed her.

“Hi Mum,” you said, feeling Tommy lift his hand to rest it on the small of your back.

Tommy was all charm as he spoke, “Mrs (y/l/n), it’s good to finally meet you.” Shining blue eyes, plump lips pulling into a smile…

“I’m not sure I can say the same to you, Shelby.” She replied, dryly, with her eyes scanning Tommy from head to toe. 

“Mother.” You barked, skin hot under your collar, your arms folding against your chest. 

She flicked her eyes to you. The stare was what you’d grown to hate most; it was unforgiving, sharp, and penetrating. A stare that was impossible to look away from, yet just as impossible to endure.

Tommy was still smiling. “Shall we come in?” Your mother’s brashness hadn’t phased him, apparently, and he disrupted the tense moment with ease. 

You looked up to your mother, silently pleading that she’d at least make an effort. To your surprise, she nodded, and moved back from the door to allow you both to step inside. 

The first five minutes were bearable. Just. 

Tommy had opted to sit in the large armchair that had once been your father’s, which of course resulted in a scolding look from your mother. But surprisingly, that was all it was. No harsh words, no criticism. Just a look. An act of mercy that she had rarely extended to you.

Tommy and your mother were almost, almost, getting along. They even engaged in somewhat pleasant small talk. It was nothing more than civil, but it was miles better than what you’d imagined. 

After a while, you allowed your shoulders to relax slightly, a smile close to gracing your lips.

“You make a good tea, Mrs (y/l/n).” Tommy smiled from his seat, balancing the now empty cup and saucer on the arm of the chair. 

“Years of practice.” Your mother crossed one leg a top the other, and turned to you. “But I suppose anything would be good in comparison to the tea (y/n) makes.” She gave a laugh, you cringed in your seat. “Never seen a girl struggle so much with such simple—“

“I hardly think that’s fair.” Tommy mused, half expecting your mother to take back the statement.

Your mother turned her head to him, the action playing in slow motion in your mind. Your stomach twisted as she spoke, “Oh and what would you know about fair, Mr Shelby?” 

That’s when it had begun to fall apart. Your temporary relaxation destroyed by your mother’s inability to watch her tongue. 

“I consider myself a fair man.” His reply was controlled, his tone showing no signs wavering.

She rolled her eyes. “I’d hardly call you a man, you’re nothing more a boy. Tainting my daughter with your, ‘business’.”

“Mum, please don’t be rude.” You attempted to quell the issue before it had fully formed. “It’s just tea.”

“Rude?” She scoffed, her eyebrows shooting upwards, “Me? You have some nerve girl.”

“I just,” you started, without knowing where your sentence was going, “I just want you to accept this.”

She continued her rant, without acknowledging your words, “You bring a criminal, into my home, and accuse me of rudeness? You sit there and let him school me on fairness, when he, and all his little bastard friends, are the scum of this city? In my own home!” 

You looked to Tommy in panic, mortified by her outburst. 

He was staring blankly at your mother. It was a look you recognised: one that sent chills up a persons spine, one that was intimidating in its emptiness, one that used absence to turn a person against themselves.

You stuttered, wanting to apologise to him, but unable to force the words from your mouth. Any words spoken against your mother would be an act of warfare. It had taken an entire childhood to learn that.

“I have tolerated this, fantasy of a relationship,’ she was still ranting, causing her face to grow redder by the second, “but I will not allow either of you to belittle me.”

“I’m sorry Mum, you’re right.” You dropped your head.

Tommy’s voice caused your heart to leap, your breath catching in your throat.

“Don’t apologise to her, (y/n).” He spoke cooly, his voice monotone as his eyes remained steady on your mother.

Your mother jumped to her feet, finger pointing toward the armchair. “Don’t you tell her what to do.” She was furious. 

You sank back into your seat. 

“You know what they told us in the war, Mrs (y/l/n)?” Tommy hadn’t even flinched. He paused, watching as your mother’s face sank into a deep frown at his question. He leant forward, forearms resting on his knees. “That a bully without their means, is nothing more than a coward.”

You blinked. Your heart was racing. Tommy Shelby was defending you, from your own mother.

“Those are very brave words, from a woman with very little means.” His voice was sharper now, built-up annoyance slipping into his tone.

Your mother was quiet for a moment, processing the words, recognising the vague threat beneath his metaphors. 

Face screwing up, she started, “How DARE—“

“No, how dare you.” Tommy burst from his seat, sending your mother back a few steps on instinct. He towered over her, his sunken features suddenly filled with a menacing darkness. 

“How dare you speak to your daughter like that.” He wasn’t shouting, but each word was punctuated with anger, a stinging poison in every syllable. “You can say what you like about me, but you keep my family out of your dirty mouth. And that includes (y/n).” 

Tommy pointed at you, still staring at your now silent mother. “(Y/n) is one hell of a girl, and one day she’ll be a Shelby too, whether you like it or not. So learn to shut up, or you’ll lose her for good.”

Your mother babbled, wide eyed and open mouthed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. (Y/n) and I have a—“

“You have no idea, no idea, of the hell you put her through.” His voice strained on the statement, as if he were holding back something worse, something physical. 

You felt your eyes begin to water. 

Your mother regained composure slightly, believing herself to have the upper-hand once more. “I put her through hell? That world you’ve dragged her into, that’s the real hell.”

Tommy’s eyes squinted slightly, and he released a breath. “Rather there, than here.” He turned to you, extending his hand. “I think it’s time to go.”

You managed a small nod, taking his hand and leaving without looking back. 

You didn’t even register your mother as she shouted after you, condemning you for “walking hand in hand with the devil”. 

Once in the car, your barrier shattered, and you dropped your face into your hands. Tears fell quickly and in volume, rolling down your forearms to soak your skirt.

Tommy’s arm was wrapped around your waist, allowing him to pull you close. He shushed you, the noise soft and forgiving. “Easy, it’s alright. (Y/n), it’s alright.”

He didn’t rush you; his patience was unmoving as he waited for you to come to a natural stop.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke after a while, handing you the gold-stitched handkerchief from his pocket. 

“No,” you sniffed, then laughed, calm enough now to be embarrassed. “I’m sorry, it was just a lot.” You wiped your face, before attempting, and failing, to straighten yourself up.

“That it was.” He was watching you with careful eyes. “I couldn’t—“

“Don’t apologise.” You smiled gently. “I wish I could talk to her like that.”

Tommy exhaled a short laugh. “I have nothing to lose, she doesn’t matter to me.”

You teared up again, much to your own frustration, causing him to squeeze your waist. You leaned into the gesture, resting your head against his shoulder. “She’s never going to speak to me again.”

“Perhaps not.” He shrugged lightly. “Perhaps she needed someone to open her eyes.”

You stared through the windshield, at the familiar road ahead of you. It didn’t feel homely now, especially after being long away from it, and your mother. “Take us home, Tommy.”

He nodded and bent to press a kiss to the top of your head.  
Good as gold, you thought, good as gold.

**Author's Note:**

> this was a requested piece of fic! the first of probably many (if people like them ofc)
> 
> my tumblr is: blinder-secrets


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